


Easy

by bootyshortskeef



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Fluff and Smut, Foot Jobs, Gentle Dom Yuuri Katsuki, Getting Together, Kink Discovery, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Service Sub Victor Nikiforov, Under-negotiated Kink, Victor Nikiforov's Foot Fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 18:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14795483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bootyshortskeef/pseuds/bootyshortskeef
Summary: Victor and Yuuri discover that love comes easy when it comes to each other.





	Easy

**Author's Note:**

> I don't remember why I started writing this, but I ended up wanting to explore the give and take of their relationship. It took quite a while for me to finish, and I agonized about it a lot. 
> 
> Please be mindful of the tags. The under-negotiated kink (breathplay near the end) is really non-negotiated, even though the reader knows both of them want it. They do talk about it at the end, and everyone is okay and happy. 
> 
> And I guess this is my obligatory "breathplay is bad" message. There's a lot of debate about whether or not it can be safely done, but the bottom line is that there's definitely a risk with it. Also, this is fiction, and I'm an omniscient author who knows what both characters are thinking. In real life, please get consent from your partner before doing anything like this. 
> 
> Lastly, Google Translate tells me that "wazato" means "on purpose" and "itotekidesu" is "it is intentional". 
> 
> Thanks to sixpences, anandrine, and dev for reading this over and giving me some feedback along the way <3

I am easy  
Easy to keep  
Honey, you please me  
Even in your sleep  
  
But my arms want to carry  
My heart wants to hold  
Tell me your worries  
I wanna be told

_Joanna Newsom, Easy_

* * *

Most days, Yuuri is quiet and a little reserved. From what Victor has heard from other skaters, Yuuri has always been friendly but kept to himself for the most part. Victor had never been in competition with him before the Grand Prix Final, but he had seen him skate. He knew he was inconsistent with jumps, and his programs weren’t optimized to take advantage of his skills—but his step sequences and choreography were amazing, his spins were both difficult and beautifully executed, and his skating skills rivalled his own. He could also tell he was a fan. He could see bits of his own stylistic and technical elements that Yuuri had incorporated into his own programs. Victor was flattered by it, especially knowing that Yuuri was such a talented skater.

He was also very cute. So, when Victor had seen him at the rink after the final, he asked him for a commemorative photo. In hindsight, it may not have been his greatest line. But it wasn’t really Victor’s fault that it was received so badly. For one thing, he hadn’t been able to watch Yuuri’s free skate yet and didn’t know that it had gone so disastrously. He also doesn’t really have a lot of experience with these things, outside of being charming and flirtatious in the way one does when they’re interacting with their fans. He never needs to be the one who initiates things.

After he had just walked away from Victor, he hadn’t expected Yuuri to speak to him at the banquet, let alone—well, everything else he had done. He’d never seen anyone put away so much alcohol before and still be able to function. And there were these moments _._ Little bursts of confidence and boldness, little dares to both others and himself.

Like his sudden courage in challenging Yuri Plisetsky to a dance-off. Or him leading Victor in the most exciting dance he’d ever had. Him smiling at Victor like _that_ before climbing up on the pole and giving every person in the room the show of their life. And then the thing that really swept Victor off his feet—Yuuri with his ugly tie around his head and asking him to be his coach. It was so genuine, and so fucking adorable that Victor knew he was done for.

* * *

 

There are other moments later, after Victor goes to Hasetsu.

After Onsen on Ice, they’re sitting next to each other on the beach. Victor has (stupidly) just asked Yuuri if he wanted him to be his boyfriend, to which he loudly and clearly said no. He’s a little heartbroken, but then Yuuri shuffles a little closer so that their bodies are touching. Victor feels a little jolt of electricity from the touch. And when he turns to Yuuri, he has a faint smile that reads almost like satisfaction. Victor isn’t entirely sure what to make of that, but it secures the hope Victor still has that Yuuri might want more from him.

And then when they’re practicing, Victor gets a little distracted by Yuuko and Takeshi. They’re talking about Yuuri, but he doesn’t know that. In any case, he’s getting a little annoyed by Victor’s lack of attention, so he starts doing the step sequence from one of Victor’s old programs. Victor catches it out of the corner of his eye and turns around mid-sentence only to find himself transfixed. Yuuri finishes it off with a flawless triple axel and then skates over to the boards. Victor’s gaze follows him as he slides his jacket off his shoulders and takes a long drink of water, a bead of sweat rolling down his neck. The Nishigoris are gone, but Victor doesn’t notice.

“How did you remember that step sequence?”

He shrugs. “Guess I was paying attention.”

That night, Yuuri stands outside of Victor’s room, stares him right in the eyes, and places his hand firmly against his cheek. Yuuri’s eyes are dark and a little mischievous. For a moment, Victor is sure he’s going to kiss him. But he just says, “ _Watch me_ ,” in a low, sexy voice before backing away and doing part of the choreo sequence from the same program as earlier. It was never so good, never so alluring when Victor had done it. Yuuri stops in front of his own door and winks before disappearing into his bedroom.

It’s a week later when Yuuri finally kisses him. They’re just coming back from the onsen, and Yuuri’s skin is flushed, and his hair is damp and slicked back like when he skates. Victor is always touching Yuuri, but today, things seemed to have been reversed.

Throughout the day, Victor would find Yuuri’s hands _somewhere_ on his body—against his lower back, caressing his shoulder, or sweeping his bangs out of his eyes. He had even sat shoulder to shoulder with him in the onsen. It was almost too much, touching Yuuri while he was so very, very naked. Victor had to think about every unattractive thing he could to will his erection away (spiders, Potya licking her butt, the time he accidentally walked in on Yakov and Lilia, the time Makkachin peed in his favourite pair of oxfords).

Now, Yuuri is trailing his fingers down Victor’s arm, and it’s like there’s a charge between them, like everything that’s been building between them is finally so big, the dam is about to burst. Yuuri takes his hand and lets himself fall a little behind before laughing quietly. Victor tries to turn around, but suddenly Yuuri is pressed up against him, an arm around his waist, lips ghosting his bare neck.

“ _Wazato_ ,” he whispers. “How do you even get a jinbei to do this?” Victor shivers at the feel of Yuuri’s lips brushing his skin, his breath against his nape. “It’s basically impossible, and yet—” Yuuri pauses and turns Victor around to face him. “You manage to do it.” Yuuri touches Victor’s bare chest with his fingertips and drags them down to where the jinbei closes—which is much lower than it should be, really. Victor can’t help the soft gasp he makes. “ _Itotekidesu_ ,” Yuuri says.

The thing is that Victor is new at all of this. The few brief encounters and flings Victor had experienced had all been initiated by other men. He’s never had to seduce anyone outside of the rink. So yeah, he played it extremely obvious, announcing himself in the nude, asking Yuuri to seduce him on the ice, touching him at every opportunity he got, even resorting to literally asking him if he wanted Victor to be his boyfriend. And yes, Victor knew that the neckline is considered attractive in Japan, because damned if he didn’t do his research before coming here. So, he maneuvered that jinbei as best as he could, letting it slide off his shoulders or fall open in the front while shooting Yuuri flirtatious looks.

“Yuu—” he stops when Yuuri places a finger over his lips.

“No talking,” he says, and then he kisses him.

Yuuri has been so bold tonight. There’s fire in his eyes, and confidence in his touch and in his voice. But his kiss is tentative. Because the thing is, Victor isn’t the only one he surprises. He surprises himself too. There are moments when he makes a move, only to feel embarrassed or doubtful of his actions moments later. But Victor kisses him back, parts his lips so he can taste Yuuri’s tongue on his own, runs his hand through his hair, lets his name spill from his lips after they part for a gasping breath. “Yuuri. _Yuuri._ ” He wants him to know that he wants this too, in case it wasn’t obvious enough by now.

“Victor,” he says. Victor waits with bated breath, unsure what he’ll do next. A blush spreads across his cheeks as he breaks into a smile. “Let’s sleep together.”

Victor stares at him in surprise before laughing. “Wow!”

What follows is a lot of kissing and touching—and biting, as Yuuri gets a little carried away, and it turns out Victor really, _really_ likes it.

“Victor,” he pauses to nip at the skin below Victor’s jaw. “Do you know how crazy you make me? Walking around with your jinbei half open like that. And you keep wearing those practice shirts that always ride up, and you’re touching me all the time—and then every night, I have to sit in the onsen with you, all—all wet and _naked._ ”

“I thought—I mean I thought you’d be used to it,” Victor pants.

Yuuri lets out an exasperated sigh and bites hard into his shoulder, which makes Victor moan and grind against him. “Used to it? How could I be used to _you_ being naked near me all the time? I’ll never get used to that. You’re _Victor._ ”

Victor supposes he’s right. He never grew up in an onsen, but he’s spent a lot of time around men in locker rooms, and he was comfortable with it by now. But seeing _Yuuri_ naked is an exercise in self-control. “Yuuri.” He kisses his hair. “Yuuri, can I touch you?”

Yuuri pulls Victor’s poorly wrapped jinbei open and tugs it off his shoulders. “No. Not yet.” He pushes Victor onto the bed and straddles his hips. “You’re so fucking hot. It’s not fair how hot you are. Do you know how hard it is to concentrate on anything when you’re around?”

Victor grins and unties Yuuri’s own jinbei. “I can sympathize.”

Yuuri blushes at this, which Victor thinks is adorable. “You’re—ugh. You’re—”

“I’m what?”

Suddenly Yuuri gets that look again. The one that looks like a dare, where you know he’s about to do or say something unexpected. “ _You’re mine,_ ” he says before kissing the smirk off his mouth.

“I know,” he whispers breathlessly between kisses. “I know.”

* * *

 

Yuuri is Victor’s too. It’s why he takes such good care of him. Everything Victor had ever done in his career was for the judges and for the fans. He always wanted to surprise, to impress, to keep people on their toes. Victor had never experienced things from the other side before Yuuri. Yuuri surprised him every day. He wanted to hold onto that. He wanted to love and care for the one who had rekindled his passion for skating, and for life.

He found himself devoted to Yuuri well before that night they’d kissed in the hallway.

One of Victor’s acts of devotion and care involves Yuuri’s feet.

After a long day of training, Yuuri’s feet are aching and often blistered. One night, he’s finished soaking in the onsen and sitting on his bed getting ready to bandage his feet when Victor knocks. “Can I come in, Yuuri?”

He sighs. He’s long given up on trying to keep Victor out of his room, and his posters are hidden safely under the bed anyway. “Yes, Victor.”

He walks in with a small bag and sets it on the bed before closing the door. He’s wearing those sweats that are tight across the ass and that stupid low-cut t-shirt. _Is he trying to kill me_? Yuuri wonders.

“Oh, good! You haven’t started yet.” He sits on the bed and pulls Yuuri’s feet into his lap.

“Ah—Victor! What are you doing?”

He just ignores Yuuri and pulls out what looks like massage oil from his bag. “I’m your coach, so let me take care of you, okay?”

Yuuri is nothing less than flustered. Celestino never did this for him, and somehow, he doubts that Yakov ever did it for Victor. And yet, Victor’s hands feel so nice on his aching feet, and he’s touching him, and he’s having trouble forming an argument against this. “I mean, if you really want to, I guess,” he mumbles.

Victor just makes a noise of approval and continues working Yuuri’s sore feet. “You did really great today.”

“Um, thanks.”

Victor hums and digs his knuckles into the arch of his foot. “Tell me if anything is uncomfortable.”

Yuuri sighs at the feeling. “It’s fine. It’s good.” A smile tugs at Victor’s lips. Yuuri can’t help but wonder what he’s playing at by doing this. Victor is _touching_ him. Is him being his coach just an excuse, or is he trying too hard to prove himself? “You don’t have to, you know.”

Victor just pats his feet dry with a soft towel and pulls out a tube of antibiotic cream. “I know,” he says as he dabs the cream onto Yuuri’s blisters.

Yuuri hesitates before asking, “Why are you?”

“I told you. I’m your coach.”

“ _Victor_ ,” he says, because he knows he’s not telling the whole truth.

He pauses before picking up the bandages. “I want to.” Victor’s hair has fallen into his face, and he’s looking straight down at Yuuri’s feet, seemingly focused on the task at hand. But Yuuri can see he’s blushing. _Why is he blushing_? Yuuri watches as Victor finishes up bandaging his feet and puts away the supplies into the bag. He turns to Yuuri with a bright smile. “All done.”

“Victor,” he starts.

“I’ll leave you to sleep, Yuuri. It’s been a long day,” he says and starts to get up from the bed.

“Or you could stay here with me tonight,” he says before realizing how it sounds. “I mean, tomorrow is an off-day, so, we could watch a movie.”

Victor hesitates for a moment before nodding. “Okay. But let’s go to my room, and then Makkachin can join us.”

Yuuri ends up falling asleep on Victor’s shoulder. When he wakes up, he’s been moved, and Victor’s arms are wrapped tightly around his waist. His neck is a bit stiff, and he’s too warm, but he feels like he could stay this way forever.

Things between them progress more quickly after that.

* * *

 

The first time Victor laces up Yuuri’s skates, it surprises them both. He’s absorbed in a one-sided conversation about the choreography for Yuri On Ice. It’s not that Yuuri isn’t interested—he’s just a bit slower in the mornings, and Victor is being enthusiastic enough for both of them. Yuuri sits down on the bench with a yawn. He’s rubbing his eyes and wondering when his morning tea will kick in when the volume of Victor’s voice suddenly increases. When Yuuri opens his eyes, he sees that Victor is on his knees in front of him.

He pulls off Yuuri’s shoes. “Anyway, I’m really glad you talked to your friend about having that song rewritten. It’s beautiful, Yuuri. It suits you.”

Yuuri stares at Victor in shock as he slides his foot into his skate and starts lacing it up. He watches as his long fingers pull at the laces.

“This isn’t too tight for you, is it?”

Yuuri stares at him in awe.

Victor looks up at him, a blush spreading across his cheeks. “I um—you just seemed tired this morning.”

Yuuri can’t help but smile at him affectionately, even as there’s something else inside him that’s been sparked. He wiggles his foot in the skate. “It’s good, thanks.”

Victor unties his skates at the end of practice too, and Yuuri finds himself unable to think of anything else all day. The only reason they make it back to the onsen is that there’s a public skate that afternoon. As soon as they’re home, Yuuri drags Victor into his room and presses him up against the wall, kissing him hungrily.

“Oh, Yuuri. Yuuri, you’ve been wound up all day. You liked it too, didn’t you?” His nails scratch gently at the nape of his neck as Yuuri slides his tongue against Victor’s throat and sucks a bruise into the skin there.

“Mm. How could I not?” he says softly against his ear before pulling back to look at him. “I love seeing you on your knees for me.” Saying it makes Yuuri blush, just a little. But Victor just shudders against him and then slides down to the floor before pressing his face against Yuuri’s hard cock. Yuuri can feel his hot breath through the fabric of his sweats.

“God—Victor.”

“Can I, Yuuri? Please, I want to make you feel good.”

Yuuri can’t say this never happened in his wildest dreams. This particular fantasy, the one where Victor Nikiforov is on his knees and begging to suck him off, is definitely a thing. It’s just that he never thought it would ever really happen. “Yes.”

But it’s different from his fantasy, and there’s something much more satisfying about knowing just how much affection and love is wrapped up in this. Victor wants to care for Yuuri’s feet, tie his skates for him, and get down on his knees and suck his cock because for some reason, he loves him. Some days, Yuuri doesn’t really know what to do with that knowledge. So, he just lets it happen, and he gives Victor what he can in return, because he loves him too.

Yuuri is close, but Victor pulls away and continues working him with his hand. “Yuuri, will you come on my face?”

“Oh, fuck.” He nods frantically and takes over while Victor grips his ass and holds his mouth open in wait.

He’s fucking beautiful, really. It doesn’t matter how put together or how wrecked he looks—Victor Nikiforov is always stunning. But Yuuri’s the only one who gets to see this side of him, and that’s _his_ come on Victor’s face, his come that Victor is eagerly licking from his puffy, pink lips.

He worries, sometimes. He worries that things are too one-sided, and that Victor gives more of himself to Yuuri than he receives in return. He knows that Victor likes doing things for him. He can’t miss the hard-on Victor sometimes gets when he’s caring for Yuuri’s feet, or tying his skates, or any number of more explicit activities that Victor does for him. It’s just that sometimes, Yuuri has a hard time understanding it.

* * *

 

It’s sometime before Worlds that things start to click into place for Yuuri. They’re living together in St. Petersburg, and they’re still adjusting to things. It’s not like Victor has been slacking off while he’s been coaching Yuuri. But his carefully planned diet and training regimen have certainly been neglected, and he’s been out of competition for most of the season. Even though Victor managed gold at nationals, Yuri Plisetsky’s score had been too close for comfort. Besides, Victor and Yuuri both know that nationals are different from international competitions.

Things are different in St. Petersburg. For the most part, it’s a good kind of different. Yuuri gets to see a new side of Victor, they get to start building a life together, and Mari’s room is no longer above them when they’re fucking. But Victor is Yuuri’s fiancé and his coach, and they’re both still adjusting to the added roles of rink mate and competitor. With the added responsibility, Victor’s days are long, and Yuuri can tell that he’s stressed out and exhausted.

So, when Victor sits at Yuuri’s feet to give him a foot rub, he protests.

“Vitya, you don’t have to do that. You’ve had a long day too.”

“I know,” he says, but he continues anyway.

Yuuri sighs. “Please, Vitya. Let me take care of you for once.”

Victor’s shoulders stiffen. “You are.”

He places his hand against Victor’s jaw. “By letting you do all the work?”

Victor takes his wrist and pulls it away. “Is that what you think this is?”

Yuuri is taken aback by the sudden change in mood. He hadn’t meant to upset him, but he looks hurt. “I mean—isn’t it?”

“When you do these things for me, do you think of them as work?”

“Of course not. But I’m not the one giving out foot rubs after an eight hour day at the rink. I’m worried, Vitya. I can see how stressed out you are. And you already do so much for me.”

Victor’s expression softens. “You think I don’t get anything out of this.”

Yuuri knows Victor enjoys taking care of him. But outside of a recognition that Victor gets a little turned on from touching his feet, he can’t understand the appeal of spending so much time doting on him when he’s as exhausted as he is. “I mean I know you _like_ it. But you need to take care of yourself too—or let me.”

“You’re right. I am stressed out,” he says, but then he starts rubbing the massage oil into his foot anyway. “I love you, and I love taking care of you. I love your feet too. They’re perfect, and you do beautiful things on the ice with them. So, I like doing this.” He smiles softly. “But those aren’t the only reasons why, Yuuri. It’s—” Victor pauses for a moment and bites his lip. “It’s relaxing for me. I can focus on something else for a little while, something simple. Something I love.”

“My feet?” he asks.

Victor chuckles. “Well, yes. But I was thinking of the person they’re attached to.”

“Oh.” Yuuri thinks on this while Victor continues at his task. He looks deep in concentration, but his shoulders are relaxed, and he looks so calm. Victor bandages Yuuri’s blisters and places a kiss on the bottom of each foot before sliding them into a pair of soft slippers.

“All done.”

“Not quite,” Yuuri says, nudging Victor’s noticeable hard-on with his foot.

“ _Yuuri._ ” Victor lets out a choked off breath.

He considers making Victor take off his pants and underwear, but he doesn’t really want to make a mess of Victor’s hard work by getting come all over his feet. Besides, it doesn’t really take much. The moment his foot touched him, Victor was a moaning mess.

“Fuck, _Yuuri_ ,” he groans as Yuuri drags his foot over the clothed length of Victor’s cock. He’s trembling and digging his nails into Yuuri’s calf. “So good, so good to me,” he says as he comes in his pants.

“You really do like it,” Yuuri marvels.

Victor just huffs out a laugh and kisses Yuuri’s knee.

* * *

 

By the time Worlds roll around, Yuuri and Victor both figure things out. Next season will be Victor’s last, and Yakov will officially be Yuuri’s co-coach. It will give Victor more time to focus on his own training, and Yakov had been visibly relieved when they approached him about it. “I was wondering when you would come to your senses,” he grumbled.

They’re sitting in the kiss and cry waiting for Victor’s free skate score. He was the last to skate, and Yuuri is currently in first place ahead of Yuri Plisetsky. Yuuri is too distracted to notice he’s won. He’s staring at Victor’s beautiful face, all flushed and sweaty from his skate. He’d been mesmerized by him during his short program, and his free skate wasn’t any different.

Yuuri had noticed the slight wobble in the landing of his quad flip, but the expression on Victor’s face was elation. He was happy, and it suddenly hit Yuuri just how much of a hand he’s had in that.  

Even before they ever met, Victor has given so much of himself to Yuuri. Victor, who puts jam in his tea, who texts Yuuri whenever he sees a cute dog, who stares at him in awe while he thinks he’s sleeping. Victor, who is devoted to Yuuri, who falls apart under Yuuri’s touch, who lavishes Yuuri with affection, who literally worships Yuuri at his feet. And somehow, Yuuri makes Victor happy.

He’s grinning at Yuuri with bright and teary eyes and saying, “Yuuri, you won!” when he suddenly _gets_ it and drops to his knees, so he can place a kiss on Victor’s skate.

Victor’s expression changes to shock. “Yuuri,” he says.

“Marry me.”

Victor reaches down and takes his hand. “Of course.” He kisses Yuuri’s ring. “You won gold, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he says, but he doesn’t mean the medal. He means Victor’s heart, which belongs to him, just like Yuuri’s belongs to Victor.

* * *

 

The press conference is an adventure, just as it had been when Victor kissed Yuuri’s skate.

One reporter asks, “Why did you kiss your coach’s skate? Were you mocking him?”

“What? No!” Yuuri protests. “It wasn’t like that at all. I mean, did you see him out there? He’s been off for nearly a year, and he still went out there and blew me away. He’s Victor Nikiforov! He’s amazing. He’s so talented, and he’s my coach, and my fiancé. And maybe I didn’t really realize it before, but we both give each other so much, and that’s why we’re both able to be here today as competitors. I love him so much, and I just wanted to show him how much he means to me. I wanted to show the world.” Yuuri pauses, and irritation washes over his features. “Mocking him? I love and respect him too much for that! How dare you insinuate anything else. Victor is the love of my life. I could never do that to him. He’s the reason I’m here!”

Victor is blushing hard. “ _Yuuri._ Wow!”

“Ugh. Enough with the dumb questions. I have to see enough of their gross gushing at home,” Yuri Plisetsky grumbles.

* * *

 

They barely make it to their room. Yuuri is glad they had time to shower before the press conference, because all he wants to do is ravish Victor right now. He’s tugging Victor’s team jacket off his shoulders and placing hot, open mouthed kisses along the back of his neck as Victor fumbles with the room key.

“Yu—Yuuri,” he stutters. Yuuri laughs, and Victor finally gets the door open. “It’s not nice to laugh, Yuuri.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says as he backs him into the bed. He pulls off Victor’s jacket all the way, and his t-shirt follows. “Love you,” he says, as he starts leaving bite marks and hickeys across Victor’s shoulders and chest. “I love you so much.” He pushes down on Victor’s shoulders so he’s sitting on the bed. “There’s so much more I want to give you.”

Victor moans under his touch. “ _Yuuri._ You give me so much, every day—”

“I know. I get it—everything you do for me.” He nibbles at his jaw and brushes his nipples with his thumbs. “I give a little to you, and I get so much more in return.”

“Oh, Yuuri,” he moans. “That’s not right—”

“Yes, it is. I give a little, and I get back a lot. But it’s the same for you, right? That’s how it feels, isn’t it?” He drops to his knees and unties Victor’s sweats, so he can tug them off. He’s full of adrenaline and love and lust, and he feels a little frantic.

“Yuuri. Yes.” He runs his fingers through Yuuri’s hair. “It feels like it’s never enough.”

“It is, Vitenka. It’s enough.” He kisses down Victor’s thighs and mouths at his cock through his underwear. Victor’s breath hitches. “Sometimes, it feels like too much.”

“ _Yuuri._ ”

“I know,” he says as he pulls Victor’s underwear down. “I know it’s not.” He buries his face in Victor’s groin, and he smells like his mango rose soap and musk. It feels like home, just like when Victor’s in his arms, like when Yuuri’s buried inside of him, like when he wakes up next to Victor’s smiling face.

Every muscle that tenses under his hands, every moan wrenched from Victor, the salty taste of his release—it’s all for Yuuri. And all he needs to do is get down on his knees and love him. It’s the easiest thing in the world.

* * *

 

“I love you, fuck, Yuuri,” he pants. Victor’s not really sure what’s gotten into Yuuri. He had been stunned when Yuuri kissed his skate, and then he was swept off his feet for what felt like the millionth time when he yelled at the press about how much he loved Victor.

And he’s not sure why he’s the one on his knees and blowing Victor’s mind through his dick when he’s the one who won gold, but Victor isn’t going to argue—not when Yuuri’s mouth is so hot, and his tongue is teasing Victor’s most sensitive spots. “Yuuri, you’re too good at this. I’m not going to last.”

He lifts his head and licks the precum welling at the tip of Victor’s cock. “Good. Come for me, Vitenka. I want it. You taste so good.”

And who is Victor to deny Yuuri, his world champion student and the love of his life? When he comes down Yuuri’s throat, he feels it down to his toes. “Yuuri, god, Yuuri.” And suddenly Yuuri’s kissing him, and he’s surprised all over again.

“Lie down,” he says as he takes off his jacket. “I want to claim my prize,” he grins.

And there it is. That possessive nature of Yuuri’s that makes Victor burn so hot. “I thought your prize was my hand in marriage,” he shoots back playfully.

“Oh. Do you not want me to fuck you?” Yuuri asks as he palms his erection through his sweatpants.

Victor pouts. “ _Yuuri_.”

“Yeah? What do you want? I’ll give you anything.”

“Fuck me with your medal on.” He says it so easily, like he’s thought about it before—he has, and in detail. He’s imagined it looming over him as Yuuri fucks him, or Yuuri tying him up with it, or Yuuri choking him with it as he fucks him from behind. Maybe Victor will save that last one for next time, and maybe next time it will be Victor’s gold medal. But it doesn’t matter; the fantasy is still the same.

So Yuuri leaves the medal on as he works Victor open with his fingers and tongue. He’s still sensitive from having just come, but Victor likes it like that. Yuuri knows exactly how to make him fall apart every time, and he loves it just as much as Victor.

“Yuuri, please, I need you,” he begs.

Yuuri bites hard at his inner thigh, and Victor’s body jerks. He kisses his way up Victor’s body while his fingers are still pumping inside of him. “I love making you look like this.”

Victor moans. His body is thrumming with pleasure and being pushed to the brink. “Yuuri, please.”

Finally, Yuuri slowly pushes into him while kissing everywhere he can reach. His medal is warm against Victor’s chest as he fucks into him, and he just feels so _good_. He’s thinking that nothing could be better than this, pleasure mounting as the love of his life fucks him senseless.

And as always, Yuuri surprises him—because somehow, he _knows_ , or maybe it’s because it’s something that Yuuri craves too. It doesn’t really matter, in the end.

He places his hand over Victor’s neck and squeezes. It doesn’t cut off his air, exactly—but the threat of it feels heavy on his throat, and it restricts the flow of his blood. The feeling is heady and intense, sparking a rush of adrenaline that goes straight to Victor’s cock. It’s strange that he should feel so full, so complete, when his body is being deprived like this. But Yuuri’s love is like that—endless and sustaining.

Everything feels too intense, the way Yuuri’s cock fills him, and the way body is thrumming with pleasure, the way his vision blurs around the edges. It’s too much, and Victor understands what Yuuri has been feeling all these months, because it feels like everything he could ever give Yuuri will never be enough.

“Maybe you’d like to wear my medal,” Yuuri whispers. “It would look so pretty around your neck.”

Victor comes hard, wave after wave of pleasure rolling through him. “ _Yuuri_ ,” he gasps.

Yuuri releases his neck, moving his hand to catch the tears falling down Victor’s cheek.

“God, Yuuri, I can’t wait to be your husband,” Victor chokes out, because it’s true, and he’s suddenly so overwhelmed with the realization that he gets to spend the rest of his life with him. And in the end, the word _husband_ is what pushes Yuuri over the edge.

Victor doesn’t know what he did to deserve this kind of love, but he knows he wants to hold onto it for the rest of his life. It’s so _easy._ It’s easy to love Yuuri, because everything he gives comes back to him tenfold.

* * *

 

He takes good care of Victor afterwards, as always, but there’s something different about it this time—like it’s laced with worry and maybe even regret. Victor doesn’t want him to regret this.

He lays against his chest in the bath, sighing contentedly as Yuuri murmurs sweet things against his temple. He’s holding him protectively with one hand on his belly and the other running gently through his hair. “I love you, Yuuri. My Yurochka,” he murmurs.

Yuuri holds him tighter. “Vitya, I’m—”

“Don’t. I know what you’re thinking. It’s alright, Yuuri.” He takes the hand that Yuuri has tangled in his hair and kisses his palm. “I wanted it before you even did it.”

“We should have talked about it first.”

“Probably,” Victor chuckles. “But you know that’s part of what I love about you. You’re always knocking me off my feet, Yuuri.” He turns his head and cups Yuuri’s jaw and kisses him tenderly. “You can look at it as a mistake, or you can ask next time. But please don’t regret this. It was—I don’t know,” he falters, trying to find the words in English. “I know you would’ve stopped if I wanted you to. I trust you. It felt—what’s the word,” he fumbles. “Cathartic. Like everything was in your hands, so it would be okay. I know you’ll always take care of me. It always feels like that. Like…like you’re healing something I didn’t even know was broken.” He pulls him down for another kiss, more firmly this time, as if to emphasize the conviction of his words. He rests his cheek against Yuuri’s. “You make me better, Yuuri. In all ways.”

Yuuri makes a soft, surprised sound, and Victor smiles at the knowledge that he has that effect on him too. Yuuri wraps both arms around Victor tightly and sighs deeply, like he can breathe again. “You make me better too. You know that, right? And I don’t just mean with skating, even though there’s that too.” He presses a kiss to Victor’s temple.

When Yuuri had his hands around Victors neck, there was one brief moment of fear. He thought the feeling of being so whole would leave him with Yuuri’s hands, but it’s still there. He feels light, unburdened by the weight of Yuuri’s love. Yuuri carries him to bed anyway, which is delightful to Victor as always.

Yuuri pulls him close under the covers and kisses his forehead. “I don’t think I’ve said it yet. Congratulations, Vitenka.”

Victor smiles, because Yuuri means it. They’ve both worked so hard for this, and Yuuri is proud of him. “Thank you, Yuuri. Don’t think this means I’ll be easy to beat next season, though. I’m coming for gold.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less,” he says. And Victor knows they both can’t wait for it, and for everything else that comes after.

 


End file.
